


Hunter

by embersofamber



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drama, Erotica, F/M, Hardened Cullen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embersofamber/pseuds/embersofamber
Summary: When Cullen let Hawke leave Kirkwall, he never intended to let her go. The time has come for a reckoning. F!MageHawke/Cullen





	Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Because of story circumstances, both Cullen and Hawke are a bit darker and more damaged than how I typically write them; and this is one of my custom Hawkes, named Terra, as opposed to the default Marian (who I also adore). Please also bear in mind that this is one of my older pieces, and was written in 2011, long before DAI was released. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and drop me a comment if you feel inclined. :)

 

_**Hunter** _

_**~o~** _

 

 

_**Lyrics quoted are from the song, Howl, by Florence and the Machine.** _

 

 

 

 

_~o~_

 

_If you could only see the beast you've made of me_

_I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free_

 

 

_~o~_

 

The Knight-Commander sat silently at his desk, quickly reading through the latest batch of letters. They were full of frantic reports of the fall of more circles and seemingly endless revolt. Mages and templars alike, rebelling against those in authority. All Thedas was poised to plunge headlong into the darkness of war. The tenor of his correspondents seemed to grow increasingly frantic.

 

He sighed, pushing the small mountain of parchment away. In the months following the destruction of the Chantry and Meredith’s death, he had taken on the burden of leadership in Kirkwall. Doing all he could to bring stability to the city while it licked its wounds and recovered.

 

It had been a difficult year, but with a new Viscount firmly in place, the weight he had been forced to carry lightened considerably. Now, with his replacement trained and installed, there were only minor loose ends to be dealt with.

 

Opening the bottom drawer, he inserted a silver key into a locked metal box and opened the lid. The small vial inside hummed with magical energy and he palmed it, rolling it gently between sword-calloused fingers. It had provided secret assurance to Cullen for many years. Not even Meredith had known what he had done. Something cautioned him not to inform anyone of the steps he had chosen to take. Those under his command never questioned his instructions or asked for details regarding his orders, making it easy to cover up.

 

What had compelled him to do as he had, years ago, he couldn’t honestly say. It was a Templar’s duty to contain mages, and he took his responsibilities seriously; perhaps it was that that drove him. It seemed a small thing to watch and wait. To finally catch the Champion compromised by drink and not as sharply aware, that one time. To knock her out and take enough of her blood to assuage any worry over letting her roam Kirkwall without a guardian.

 

She had never even known it was him; never saw his face. There were times when he had wondered if she really knew what had happened when she awoke alone in that dark, Lowtown alley without her coin-purse. Cullen had watched over her until she regained consciousness. She had looked around with a frown, dusted herself off, and moved on.

 

He had not intended to use it against her; had hoped it would be an unnecessary precaution. But when the sky exploded in magical fire, and rubble and ruined shards rained down when innocent lives were taken, _everything_ changed.

 

The mage directly responsible had died on her own blade, but it wasn’t enough. Others cried out for her life to be taken in recompense. They claimed she was an accomplice, and was culpable for the actions of her friend. His own opinions on the matter were not important. Cullen was a holy warrior, and he had orders. Ones he had willingly accepted.

 

Scooping up all the information he had gathered on sightings and her possible location, he placed the stack of letters in a leather bag, along with the execution order from the Divine. His gaze tracked silently across the office of the Knight-Commander, checking for anything he might have forgotten. Standing, he pushed in the chair and donned his nondescript sword, shield and helm. His armor was equally unremarkable and would allow him to move undetected.

 

Walking to the door, he stepped through the archway and closed it for the last time. Finally, it was necessary for him to fulfill the vow he had made on the day he had let her walk away: to find her. His entire life narrowed into a single focus-- Cullen became a hunter.

 

~o~

 

_Now there's no holding back, I'm making to attack_

_My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out_

 

_~o~_

 

From city, to sea, to forest, and seemingly endless taverns, and finally farms across Ferelden, it had taken nearly five months to catch up to her. Even with the phylactery, she was no easy prey, not even on his native soil. Several times, he had only just missed her as she managed to once again, slip through his fingers.

 

But he was not discouraged or frustrated. He had stopped shaving, and also allowed his closely cropped hair to grow longer. It was doubtful, even if she had caught sight of him that she would recognize who he was. She had never beheld him divested of his Templar trappings.

 

He had taken an afternoon’s rest in the comfortable, warm tavern of the latest village he found himself in, having already secured a room for the night, in preparation for what lay ahead. He was grateful he had kept the covering mantle of his cloak pulled low over his face when _she_ walked in.

 

Cullen knew she was close by. The bright glow of the vial that had become his personal talisman grew warm against the bare skin of his chest, hidden beneath his clothing and armor.

 

_Hawke_. He said her name in his mind, wondering what her life had been like in the past year and a half since she had fled Kirkwall in the black of night with her few companions. She was alone now. How long had she been alone?

 

She was thinner, and the bones of her face were a little sharper, but she seemed mostly unchanged. Her clothes were plain; breeches, tunic, and leather boots, and her own voluminous cape that seemed a necessary thing in the cooler Ferelden climate. She no longer sported her previously impressive, and expensive light armor. She wore twin daggers at her hips. He wondered if the addition was more artifice, or if she had found it necessary to gain new skills.

 

“Ale, please.”

 

The husky sound of her voice reached across the space between them. He was thrust back into memory, to the day she had defied Meredith and defended the mages, her voice ringing across the Gallows with confidence. Hawke had seemed larger than life.

 

This cloaked figure appeared almost petite by comparison. She had hidden herself well, but she couldn’t hide the low thrumming of her magic. Not from him. His finely honed Templar sensibilities buzzed with the proximity of such a powerful mage.

 

She cast her eyes around the room, and he lifted his mug and drank with studied unconcern. Her eyes barely registered his presence before returning to the barman.

 

Taking her drink, she surprised Cullen by sitting very near him instead of across the room, as he assumed she would do. He understood why when she stretched her arms toward the warm blaze of the hearth. It was a cold and miserable day across the Bannorn.

 

Her back was mostly to him when she pushed her hood down, and he began making note of more differences. Her light blonde hair was no longer worn cut off at the shoulders, but down her back in a long braid. Several shorter wisps escaped, haloing her face and softening her features.

 

She pulled a book from the bag she carried, and flipped through the pages before sitting back to read. It was an odd scene if he thought about it, hunter and prey snugly installed together.

 

Cullen sat back to enjoy a final moment of peace before he was forced to act and bring his hunt to an end. The order for execution still remained a silent menace in the leather bag at his feet.

 

~o~

 

_The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound_

_I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallowed ground_

 

~o~

 

 

Terra felt a tingle of awareness skitter across her neck, raising the fine hairs there. She glanced behind her, but the lane was empty. It was very unlikely anyone would be out with the damp, cold drizzle that continued to float from the night sky like tears from the Maker.

 

She slipped into the Chantry and went to sit near the front to pray, as was her custom. Her guilt was a living, breathing thing, and the only way to wash the poison from her soul was in regular acts of repentance.

 

She had made so many mistakes over the years. Too many errors in judgment that were the result of ignorance or arrogance. Or in the case of Anders, blind trust. The fact that she had stabbed him in the back like the lowest of cowards was another stain on her heart. No matter what horror he committed, he hadn’t deserved that from her. A person he had called friend.

 

After an unknowable amount of time slipped past while regret tormented her, she rose and lit a candle to the side of the alter. Dropping a few coppers into the donation box, she turned to leave, idly wondering how many days she should plan to stay in this village before moving on.

 

Life had become a confusing blur of towns and inns. Gossip of what the Champion and her companion had done spread like wildfire. Whispered tales of rebellion, battle, and strange magics. Some things she heard were laughable, and that always made her think of Varric’s love for embellishment, but at the heart of it, most of what she heard was true.

 

All except for the part she played in the destruction of the Chantry, but who would believe her innocence? Death would surely be her fate if she was ever careless enough to allow herself to be discovered, so she ran. She hid. At least she still managed to excel at something.

 

The friendship and company she had enjoyed in Kirkwall seemed to have been a distant dream. Every member of her family had died while under her protection- yet another thing she had utterly failed at. It seemed the judgment for her sins was to be alone. Forever alone.

 

Her hands trembled when she lifted the latch on the heavy door from the fatigue that was her constant companion. Sleep was hard to come by, and what little she did manage to get was often racked by nightmares and fear of discovery.

 

The rain was coming down more heavily than when she entered and she pulled the thick folds of her cloak more tightly against her body. She lingered under the awning of the Chantry porch, in no rush to return to the cramped, smelly room in the only inn the town boasted.

 

The door swung open, and she moved to one side to allow the person to pass, when her worst nightmare came to greet her.

 

“Hawke.”

 

The quiet sound of hearing her name from the lips of an unknown, heavily armored man, sent her into instant terror. She didn’t take time to study him or ask questions, but bolted for the woods that ran along the edge of town.

 

Sloshing footsteps on the muddy ground, and the frantic sounds of her labored breaths were all she knew. Heavy armor clanked close behind, spurring her to run faster. She dodged around trees and twisted her ankle in an unseen hole in the darkness, crying out in pain but pushing herself onward.

 

Her lame foot snagged in the thick undergrowth, and she crashed down, face first in the muck. Twisting onto her back, she summoned a spell to defend herself when she felt the invisible fist of a smite, stunning her and taking her urgently needed mana.

 

A snarl of desperation caught in her throat, and she pulled out a dagger, determined to die fighting. The hulking figure lunged for her, knocking the weapon away and pinning her with his sheer mass. She fought and twisted, trying to break free, but she was no match for the man’s strength. He pinned her limbs with casual ease.

 

Was this to be her end after all she had lived through? The mage who had defeated the Arishok in single combat and lived, was to breathe her last in the dark and muck of this forgettable place?

 

Closing her eyes in defeat, she tried to summon the courage to die bravely, but found she was finally too tired of it all to really care.

 

“Please, kill me quickly. If there is any mercy in you, let me die in freedom instead of captivity.” Warm breath fanned across her face making her shiver violently.

 

“I’m not here to kill you, Hawke. You have nothing to fear from me.”

 

She laughed, some shadow of her former humor surging to the forefront. “If this is you being friendly, I hope to never get on your bad side.”

 

He chuckled, shifting his weight slightly, and the sound stirred something. She peered at him, but couldn’t make out his face clearly in the darkness.

 

“Do I know you?” She had calmed slightly, but her voice still carried a distressed edge.

 

“It’s Cullen. Former Knight-Captain from Kirkwall.”

 

She turned her face away, now able to place his voice, but no more assured than before. He had not called for her death that terrible day long ago. Had, in fact, stood up to the Knight-Commander on her behalf, but that did not mean he meant her no harm now. They were still mage and templar- natural enemies.

 

“Are we going to lay here all night, or do you have other plans?”

 

He moved again, securing her wrists in his hands, the metal of his armor cold against her skin. “I’m going to let you up, but you mustn’t struggle. I give you my word I will not hurt you, unless you force me to by attempting to flee. Do you understand?”

 

She blew at a wet strand of hair sticking in her eye and nodded. “I understand, Knight-Captain.”

 

Her pulled her up, never lessening his grip on her. “Actually, it was most recently Knight-Commander, but the title remained behind me when I left Kirkwall. I’m just Cullen now. Come, we must get out of this damp.”

 

He quickly disarmed her of her remaining dagger and belt knife, then wrapped his iron-clad fingers around her wrist in a firm grip. They walked back to town, seeming to take much longer than it took to leave it, especially with the tenderness of her ankle. Hawke was impressed she had made it as far as she had.

 

Moving briskly, he guided her through the busy tavern toward the rooms in the back. He led her straight to her room and opened the door, shutting it after she entered. He released her to remove his drenched cloak and she rubbed her wrist, taking a moment to reacquaint herself with his appearance.

 

“It’s nice to see you again, Cullen, but you really didn’t need to come all this way on my behalf, you know.”

 

He lifted a brow at her poor attempt at humor and she studied him curiously. The shadowed stubble she was used to seeing was now replaced by a full goatee and mustache, and his hair hung in shaggy curls across his forehead. There was more hardness and less of the soft kindness in his eyes than before. He looked like an altogether different man than the clean-cut Templar she had come to expect, although she could never claim to have really known him well.

 

“You should get out of those wet things.”

 

She startled at the sound of his voice, her hands automatically going to the clasp at her neck, and her sodden cloak peeled away, wet and heavy. She folded it in two and went to lay it on the back of a chair, but he touched her arm, stopping her.

 

“Gather all your things. I have the larger room. We’ll be staying there for tonight.”

 

A flash of nerves bunched in her stomach. “But Cullen, this is so sudden. I hardly think I know you well enough to spend the night in your room. What about propriety? People will talk.”

 

Where she expected him to stammer and blush, or maybe laugh, he only looked at her steadily. “Propriety be damned,” he said softly. “I will do what I must.”

 

Her eyes widened, then narrowed suspiciously. “Who are you really, and what have you done with the sweet Templar you’re pretending to impersonate?”

 

His mouth lifted in a smile, brightening the green in his eyes. “Life changes us, Hawke, not always for the better, but Maker willing, it makes us wiser.”

 

Her eyes dropped to his breastplate as she tried to adjust her perceptions to accommodate this Cullen, who seemed not quite the same as before.

 

“I suppose you’re right.” She moved quickly, gathering her few belongings into her large pack, and nodding when she was ready. He took her arm, leading her down the narrow hall to the last door.

 

They entered the spacious room, and she looked around, raising a brow at the large bed. It was the only one in the room, but she refrained from comment in favor of going to the lit fireplace to warm her numb hands.

 

She wondered briefly if she could knock him out, and run before he recovered. Carefully, she stirred against her connection to the fade, testing just how much mana had returned when Cullen was behind her, having removed his gauntlets and resting his bare hand on her shoulder in a heavy grip. She could feel his warmth through the cloth of her blouse.

 

“Don’t,” he said, his voice deep with warning. Glancing back, she met his serious gaze. “If I have to keep draining you, I will, but it’s your choice.”

 

Sighing in defeat, she nodded. “Very well, you win. But if you don’t intend to kill me, would you mind telling me what you _are_ planning? Forgive my skepticism when you manhandle me, and then declare you intend me no harm.”

 

He pulled a chair closer and motioned for her to sit, then brought a blanket to wrap around her. She smiled inwardly at his thoughtfulness, he always had struck her as the caring sort. He crossed the room and took several minutes to remove his armor, then returned carrying a leather bag, and drug another chair up, facing hers.

 

Sitting down, he looked at her silently for a long moment, then rubbed a hand across his beard. All the while, she watched him, trying to call up all her dealings with him over the years.

 

Next to Ser Thrask, he was the kindest and most polite of any Templar she had ever dealt with. A strange choice to send to kill her. Or perhaps he was only intended to capture her, and turn her over to others.

 

He reached into his bag and pulled out a roll of vellum, bearing an official seal. “This,” he said quietly, “is an order for your execution by the Divine in Orlais. It was in my possession for several months before I left Kirkwall, and I asked to be allowed to carry it out personally.”

 

Hawke looked into the dancing flames of the fire, her worst suspicions confirmed. “I take it you plan to return me to Kirkwall before you act on that order?”

 

He shook his head, returning the document to the bag and setting it aside. “No, I have no such intention.”

 

She bit the inside of her cheek, relying on the pain to calm her pounding heart. “How soon?” Her voice was a whisper. “Tomorrow? Next week? I need to prepare myself.”

 

He tunneled his fingers through his hair, then leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “Hawke. Terra. I told you-- I didn’t come to kill you; the reason I came was to save you.”

 

When his words had taken several seconds to sink in, she looked at him, her blue eyes wide in surprise. “You came to _save me_? I don’t understand, you said you asked to be allowed to kill me.”

 

“I did,” he said, nodding, “but only to keep anyone else from trying to hurt you.”

 

She had experienced a great many surprises in her life, but having a Templar tell her he had gone to great lengths to save her life was positively mystifying.

 

“Why would you do this for me? Assuming you’re telling the truth, and not just trying to draw me in to make the return trip easier.”

 

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I am telling the truth. And I’m doing it because calling for your death is wrong. You had no knowledge of the plot to destroy the Chantry, anyone could see that, and the person responsible has already paid for it with his life. A sentence you didn’t hesitate to carry out, despite the fact that he was a close friend.”

 

Hawke said nothing, but a flash of pain went through her eyes. “But I still don’t understand why, Cullen. You owe me nothing.”

 

He leaned forward and took her hand. “You never did anything wrong. You always went out of your way to help those in need. I do this because I’m not your enemy, and you’re not mine. The whole world may go to ruin, but if I can keep you safe from this evil verdict, I will have made a difference on the side of all that is right.”

 

She blinked owlishly. “I remember you saying mages weren’t like other people, and they needed to be watched all the time. What changed?”

 

He laughed bitterly and released her hand. “Everything.” Cullen rubbed his brow tiredly, looking older and haggard. “I don’t have the certainties I used to when my life was calm and predictable. I’ve witnessed a great many Templar abuses over the past year. They sicken me,” he said in disgust. “I won’t remain in an Order that does more harm than good, which is what it’s become. I will never believe the Maker approves of such extreme measures.”

 

She digested his words for a moment. “I don’t know what to say, Cullen. I misjudged you. I’m sorry for that.”

 

He waved away her apology. “I just want you to know that you can trust me. I will never lie to you.”

 

“What’s your plan then? I’ll assume you have one after all this effort.” She tucked her legs under her, attempting to get more comfortable.

 

“I plan to get you someplace safe. The more remote, the better, and then send the completed order to the Divine, along with my resignation. If sightings of you stop, and then I report you dead, no one else will search for you.” He glanced at her. “You’ll be free, so long as you don’t attract fresh attention.”

 

“A Templar wants to free me,” she said in befuddlement. “That clinches it, I’m definitely in the Fade, and you’re a desire demon trying to tempt me.”

 

His eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Do I look like a desire demon to you?”

 

She made a show of examining him from head to toe. “Well, they do pick secret fantasies from our head, so…maybe?”

 

“I don’t believe for a second that you ever had secret fantasies of Templars that didn’t involve the spilling of blood.”

 

Hawke clasped her hands together, looking sad. “I’ve known a number of fine men who were Templars, Cullen, you among them. I hope I have never been guilty of condemning someone for an association or label. Each person is an individual, and should be dealt with accordingly. I’ve never enjoyed having another person’s blood on my hands. I hope you don’t think otherwise.”

 

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t something I should jest about. Forgive me.”

 

“No harm done,” she said with a small smile.

 

A knock sounded at the door, and Cullen rose to answer it, returning a moment later with a tray laden with food. The aroma of beef and fresh bread wafted out, making Hawke’s mouth water.

 

“Maker, that smells good.” Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

 

“I thought you might be hungry. There’s nothing like a dash through the woods to build the appetite.” His smile was teasing and she grinned.

 

“Then we should both be famished after our jaunt.”

 

They turned their attention to the meal, and Hawke found herself gradually relaxing in his presence. There was something soothing about him, and she hadn’t realized how much she had missed having the companionship of another person, especially one she didn’t have to hide from.

 

With the meal behind them, Terra removed her muddy boots and curled up on the floor before the fire, while Cullen began cleaning his armor. She watched his methodical movements, ones he had obviously repeated many times.

 

“If you plan to take me somewhere safe,” he glanced up from his work and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, this whole thing still seems rather fantastic. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around it.”

 

His eyes crinkled again with his half-smile. “You wanted to ask me something?” He prodded.

 

She shook herself from her reverie. “Yes. I wanted to know where we’re headed.”

 

He set aside his chest plate and started on the scattered sections of leg armor. “I thought to leave that decision to you. Have you an idea of where you might want to settle?”

 

Terra snagged a cloth and took one of the dirty pieces of armor from the pile, slowly working away the mud and grit. He glanced up, noting the graceful movement of her hands before continuing his task.

 

“I thought to maybe try the Hinterlands. Last I heard, there isn’t much of a population in the area. I believe the darkspawn corruption remained more to the east. Or perhaps the Brecilian forest might offer a better refuge?”

 

“The forest would more readily offer material to build a dwelling, as well as fresh game and water.”

 

She nodded her head slowly, having given the matter a good deal of thought in the time she had been on the run. “You’re right. Although I don’t know much about catching game. I suppose a lightning spell would suffice, if there wasn’t anyone close by to object.” She watched him from the corner of her eye to see his reaction to her casual mention of magic.

 

The smallest smile tugged at his lips while he continued his movements. “If you used a fire spell, you might save yourself extra work by catching and cooking the animal all at once.”

 

Snickering, she shook her head. “Unless you fancy charred cinders for a meal, I don’t think that would work.”

 

He shrugged and looked up, noting how the nearness of the fire brought a light flush to her cheeks, and her blue eyes sparkled with humor. He swallowed down a heavy surge of attraction and recovered his chain of thought.

 

“I could teach you how to set traps, if you like, as well as how to clean and cook what you catch.”

 

She looked surprised by his words. “Thank you, I would like that.” Setting aside the armor, she leaned back, a faraway look in her eyes. “Funny the paths life can lead us on. From a family of apostates, to refugees fleeing the blight, to orphaned noblewoman,” she stopped to draw a breath. “To Champion of Kirkwall, to wanted criminal on the run, to who knows what next.”

 

Silence descended on them, and Terra turned and laid her arms across the seat of the chair, her head resting on them like a pillow. She watched the fire, drawn to the hypnotic flickering of dancing heat and light. When Cullen finished with his final piece of armor, he found she had fallen asleep.

 

It was a rare pleasure just to be able to gaze on her beautiful face again. He replayed the evening in his mind. She was changed, there was no doubt of it. There was less confidence in her demeanor, and a kind of sad brokenness- something he easily recognized from his own painful experiences.

 

It was difficult to have the faith he once had when everything around him contradicted it. He no longer considered magic to be the more pressing threat. No, the greater threat lay in the warped leanings of those that justified their actions as the will of the Maker. Torturing mages had become standard practice, his once noble Order a refuge for the most demented minds. He wouldn’t see her fall to that. Not while he had breath in his body to stop it.

 

As quietly as he could, he put the metal trappings away then returned to shake her gently.

 

“Terra, wake up. You can’t sleep here, go and take the bed.”

 

Her eyes opened blearily. “What about you, where will you sleep?”

 

“I will manage very well on the chair, don’t concern yourself.”

 

She stood and moved to her pack, barely sparing him a glance before slipping from her dirty clothing and into a long, linen shirt. He averted his gaze as much as possible while still keeping her in his peripheral vision. She unwound her hair from the tight braid, shaking it free and sighing in pleasure. Pulling back the covers, she climbed to the far side of the bed.

 

“You can sleep on that side of the bed, Cullen. It’s foolish to waste a night’s rest on false modesty.” She turned over to look at him. “Especially since you already damned propriety. We’re both adults here. Good night.”

 

Her breaths evened out until her chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep. He hesitated before removing his boots and changing into a fresh shirt and breeches. He sat on the edge of the bed and swung his legs up and leaned back against the wall.

 

He debated with himself briefly, but finally, unwilling to take chances before he was certain she trusted him, he drained her mana again.

 

She whimpered pitifully and rolled toward him, curling into a ball. He stroked her hair soothingly for several minutes. Calming, she drifted back into a deeper sleep and he slid down, turning on his side to face her.

 

Much still lay before them, but he had at least found her. It was a relief to be able to stand between her and any would-be attackers.

 

Almost against his will, the fade claimed him, at last.

 

~o~

 

_A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers at night_

_May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright_

 

_~o~_

 

Cullen awoke to the awareness of being watched. His eyes opened to Terra’s amused grin on the pillow next to him, and he rubbed a hand across his eyes, dispelling the last vestiges of sleep.

 

“Even your snoring is quiet and polite, Ser Cullen. I don’t think you’re capable of being rude and inconsiderate even while you’re unconscious.”

 

He huffed a laugh, and peered at her. “Did I snore? I’m sorry, that only happens when I’m excessively tired. You have led me on quite the chase. I hope I didn’t disturb you too much.”

 

She sat up and stretched, rubbing her neck and wincing. “No, it didn’t bother me in the slightest. I slept surprisingly well. I also come from a family of champion snorers. Don’t be surprised if I wake the dead one night with my ungodly racket.”

 

He rose and crossed the room, putting on his boots and over tunic. “Would you like for me to call for a bath for you before we breakfast? I want to move on today.”

 

She nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you. Are you going to watch?”

 

He tried to repress his smile and failed. He finished with his boots and walked back to her.

 

“There’s something I need to tell you, and before you get angry, please know I acted from a desire to protect you, even then.”

 

Her brow furrowed. “It doesn’t sound like I’m going to like this.”

 

“Probably not. I’ve never met a mage that did.” He sat on the bed and took her hand in his. “The way I was able to find you, was by using a phylactery.” Her eyes widened. “I took your blood years ago.”

 

Her gaze went unfocused with memory. “In that Lowtown alley.”

 

He looked surprised. “You knew?”

 

“I didn’t know exactly what you were about, but you used to wear a very distinctive sandalwood scent. It was all over me when I awoke. As was a fresh wound on my arm.” She shrugged. “The mystery is finally solved.”

 

He squeezed her hand in apology. “I will destroy it when I am satisfied you are free of danger, but I dare not do so yet, so long as others continue to hunt you and there is the possibility we could be separated.”

 

Her thumb stroked the back of his knuckles before withdrawing her hand. “Thank you for telling me, Cullen. I do understand your reasoning, and I appreciate your candor.” She grinned wickedly. “Although, this means I can insist on my own room in future.”

 

He shook his head emphatically. “No, it will be easier if we travel under the guise of husband and wife, plus I would feel better being close by when you take your rest.”

 

“You aren’t one of those creepy kind of people that likes to stare at someone while they sleep, are you?”

 

His eyes darkened with humor. “Templars receive specialized training in creepiness. Were you not aware?”

 

She laughed. “I like you, Cullen. Now get out and give a woman a few minutes of privacy, would you?”

 

He nodded, and donned his weapons before going to see about the bath, breakfast, and purchasing a few necessary supplies for their journey.

 

~o~

 

_Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers_

_Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters_

 

_~o~_

 

Several weeks later found them on the outskirts of Lothering, and Terra couldn’t help the nervous trepidation she felt looking at her former home town. Sensing her upset, Cullen wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she swallowed and smiled weakly.

 

As the days had turned to weeks and they had gotten to know each other, away from rank and title, Terra found herself more and more drawn to Cullen. They had already run into several Templars eager to end her life for being a mage, and he had cut them down without hesitation, proving how serious he was about protecting her. It was nice having someone protect _her_ for a change.

 

“We need to stock up on supplies before we head east. Is there a merchant that sells general wares?” he asked.

 

“I assume so. The last I saw of Lothering, it was overrun with darkspawn, and I was running for my life.” She shrugged. “We could look around.”

 

They found the main thoroughfare, but other than the Chantry, nothing was familiar. All the buildings were built from new timber, and the town had grown much larger in the years she had been absent. Shops were plentiful, and children dodged among browsers, trailing cheerful laughter. It heartened her seeing new life rising from the ashes of the old.

 

After they had bartered for what they needed, Cullen pulled her aside, looking embarrassed. “I need to go and speak to the Commander of the Templars while we’re here.”

 

“What! Why, Cullen?”

 

He looked around to be certain no one could overhear, but he bent to whisper in her ear as a precaution. “I need lyrium, Terra. Also, I must send word of my progress to the Divine, so more hunters won’t come after you. I will make it sound as though your capture is imminent.”

 

She looked doubtful, but whispered back. “Send what messages you feel necessary, but you needn’t worry over lyrium. I can make potions for you whenever you have need. I already have all I require for the task.” She patted her pack significantly.

 

“Oh, well, that’s helpful.” He looked thoughtful. “Do you want to wait in the tavern for me, or outside of town?”

 

“I think I’ll get us a room and take a bath. It might be the last hot water we have a chance at for a while.”

 

“That certainly does sound tempting,” he teased. “I’ll hurry with my task.”

 

He brushed his lips against her forehead and turned to walk to the Chantry. She stood watching him, hard pressed to figure out whether he was serious or teasing. Weren’t Templars chaste? Unbidden, the memory surfaced of all the Templar patrons at the whorehouse in Kirkwall. Had Cullen ever been there? Shaking her head, she went in search of an inn.

 

~o~

 

Breathing deep in pleasure, Terra ducked her head under the soapy bubbles, rinsing her hair. Coming up, she sputtered when the soap rushed between her parted lips. She rubbed her eyes, smiling at the towel extended in front of her. She took it and wiped her face, and looked up to intense green eyes regarding her.

 

She leaned back, smirking. She was comfortable with her body, and after spending so much time with Cullen, it didn’t phase her for him to see her naked, although she was rather surprised at his boldness. He always tried to afford her some measure of privacy, when possible.

 

“You’re back. That didn’t take long.”

 

He moved away and sat in a chair facing her. “I did knock, but when I didn’t get an answer, I just came in. Do you want me to leave?”

 

“Why? I’m just bathing. There’s nothing to fear from a naked woman.”

 

His lips twisted and his fingers drummed on the arm of the chair. “That’s debatable,” he muttered.

 

Terra grinned and closed her eyes. “I believe this bath is large enough for two, if you’re so inclined.”

 

His strangled groan and the sounds of him pacing made her smile broaden.

 

“You didn’t say that, and I didn’t hear it,” he said under his breath.

 

“Suit yourself.” She soaked a while longer, then took pity on him, rising from the bath and stepping out. “It’s still hot if you don’t mind sharing the same water.”

 

She went to the window and peeked out between the cracks in the shutters, tucking her towel more firmly around her. His splash behind her made her smile. She yawned and went to the bed, dropping her towel and climbing between crisp, fresh sheets.

 

Camping in the wild wasn’t something she enjoyed. She was a city dweller at heart, and missed all the conveniences of living in a large community. Yawning again and relaxed from her bath, she closed her eyes, just intending to rest them for a moment, but fell asleep instead.

 

She forced open heavy lids to the feeling of fingers stroking her hair. Murmuring contentedly, she turned over to look at Cullen. He was bare except for the towel wrapped around his lean hips, and her eyes traced his muscled chest and the chiseled ridges across his stomach.

 

She reached out slowly to run her fingertips over his broad shoulder and down his arm, tickling the light dusting of hair. She leaned up on her elbow to drag her lips across his collarbone, delighting in his shuddering sigh. She sought his gaze, wanting to see how affected he was by her touch, and her obvious invitation.

 

The golden flecks in his eyes were more prominent in the late afternoon sunlight shining through the window. The tension between them was palpable, and Terra was almost painfully aroused from so brief a contact.

 

He touched her face, mapping her cheekbones with gentle fingers, and running a thumb across her lips, parting them. “Do you want this, Terra? It will change everything between us.”

 

She kissed the thumb against her mouth, flicking her tongue against the rough pad. “Life’s too short for hesitation, Cullen. Make love to me.”

 

He sucked in a breath, the surprise in his eyes changing to something dark and possessive. Slowly, he pushed the covers down, revealing her breasts to his devouring gaze. Moving his hand from her face, he covered one breast with his roving palm, squeezing lightly. She arched against him, and he lowered his lips to hers for a passionate kiss, sending a jolt of awareness through them both.

 

He pulled off his towel, tossing it to the floor, and slid the covers off her, so they were both fully exposed. A silent minute passed while they stared at each other. Cullen reached for her, pulling her against him so he could kiss her hungrily, sighing as her softness slid against him. Aching desire, too long denied, sent his cock bobbing against her hip.

 

She moaned against his mouth when his hand caressed a nipple, and trailed lower, slipping between the wet petals of her sex. She parted her thighs to him, inviting more of his wandering exploration.

 

“I’ve dreamed of touching you like this for years, Terra.” Cullen kissed his way down her neck, then lower to capture a nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first, then laving her firmly while he thrust a finger inside her. Her hips bucked helplessly at his invasion.

 

“Sweet holy Maker, Cullen.” She drew out his name on a long sigh. “I need you inside me.” She reached for his stiffened cock, pumping his length slowly, begging him to take her in a husky voice.

 

He finally heeded her pleading cries, too aroused to go slow. Laying flat, her pulled her on top of him until she straddled his hips. He guided himself to her opening, and she sank down until he was fully sheathed inside of her.

 

Cullen moaned as she took him into the haven of her body. It was where he had longed to be, but had always felt it was wrong to have such thoughts. In a single moment, she swept away all his doubts and self-recrimination, replacing it with acceptance and belonging.

 

She was the healer to his scarred and wounded soul, she was heat and light and beauty. He was drawn to her; had always been drawn to her from the very beginning. Had the Maker rewarded his patience by granting him his heart’s desire at last?

 

Their loud breaths filled the room as the scent of sex spread like an exotic perfume. He gripped her hips, urging her faster, but she continued to move languidly, resisting him. He growled and flipped her over, looming over her, setting a faster pace. She laughed teasingly at his domination, until he reached down and strummed his fingers against her pearl, turning her laughter to moans of pleasure.

 

He watched her face covetously as she gave herself to her climax, before obeying the small, urgent contractions of her body, insisting he join her. He surrendered to the force of his own release within her depths.

 

Cullen sprawled atop her heavily, until she pushed against his shoulder. He rolled to one side, drawing her against him for a kiss, slow and languid. He pulled back and examined her face for long minutes, reaching up to trace her jaw.

 

“I don’t consider what we just did as an idle rutting. I want you to know that meant something to me.”

 

She smiled and kissed him again. “I don’t share my body casually either. I care for you, Cullen. I shouldn’t burden you by saying I love you, but know you are in my heart.”

 

He smiled, a touch of melancholy to the expression. “Will you think me mad if I tell you I’ve been in love with you for many years?”

 

Her brow furrowed. “No, not mad, but I will admit to being surprised by that confession. Although, perhaps I felt it. I never could figure out why I always had such explicit dreams of you. Perhaps we were always meant to come together.”

 

He nuzzled against her throat. “I am yours for as long as you wish me to stay with you.”

 

There was a yearning in his voice which was echoed in her own heart. “Stay forever,” she whispered, fearful of his reaction, but unable to stop the words.

 

He moved back to look at her and she held her breath while he read her expression with all the intensity his green-gold eyes could muster. “Are you certain?” he asked, and she nodded.

 

“Then marry me, Terra.”

 

She bit her lip, feeling just reckless enough to agree. “You want to marry a wanted apostate? Mages aren’t supposed to marry, you know, although that didn’t stop my parents. Are _you_ certain?”

 

He smiled. “Completely. You deserve to be cherished and honored. I want more from you than just the pleasure of sharing your bed.” His expression sobered, becoming weighty with the force of his feelings. “My world only makes sense with you in it. Say yes, please.”

 

Terra couldn’t stop the broad grin from spreading across her face. “Yes.”

 

~o~

 

_Until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest_

 

~o~

 

The Chantry was quiet in the pre-dawn light. Terra and Cullen slipped through the front door and made their way to the alter, where the Revered Mother was waiting to join them in the eyes of man and Maker.

 

The ceremony was simple, and was over surprisingly quick for so momentous an occasion. They were signing documents, then soon after, retrieving their belongings and setting out for the Brecilian Forest.

 

Cullen had shaved his beard and mustache and had his hair trimmed. Looking at him now, he looked almost the same as he had the first time she had seen him, the day they had fought an abomination together.

 

They had stayed nearly a week in Lothering at Cullen’s insistence, giving him time to do some of the jobs on the Chanter’s board, and earn extra coin. She had wanted to help, but knew the wisdom of keeping herself and her magic out of sight. She passed the time reading, and catching up on her journal, which she had neglected since Cullen had re-entered her life.

 

The time spent together in slow, languorous lovemaking and quiet conversation were cherished moments for Terra. Some secret part of her had always longed for a man bold enough to defy the world and love her in spite of everything.

 

Her parents had an excellent marriage for the years they had been granted together. She was hopeful that she and Cullen would have a chance for the same. When her heart swelled every time he looked at her, and when his eyes went soft with his feelings for her, she optimistically thought their chances were excellent.

 

Terra was feeling particularly light and happy as they left Lothering behind, following the winding road toward Denerim. They intended to travel along it until they came to South Reach, where they would cut across country until they reached the forest.

 

Camping was no more comfortable in the days ahead, except now she had Cullen to share a bedroll with. They passed the hours of darkness in the heated press of skin and the shared laughter of new discovery.

 

They meandered along an open ridge of land bordering a small copse of trees near a larger wood, deciding it was a good place to stop.

 

Cullen shrugged off the heavy pack gratefully where they had decided to camp for the night. “I’m sure that’s gotten heavier since we left Lothering. Are you collecting rocks, or something?”

 

She dropped her own pack and rubbed her tired shoulders. “Pots, actually. Remember that peddler we met several days back? I thought it might be the last chance I would have to buy a few things conducive to domestic bliss. Especially if you are going to be frequently showing off your hunting and trapping prowess.”

 

He pulled her against him, giving her a mock scowl. “I believe I already proved my superior hunting skills by catching you.” He kissed her soundly.

 

She returned his kiss, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth. “You may have caught me, but you didn’t tame me. I still bite.”

 

He smacked her bottom affectionately and smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll gather the wood.”

 

She pulled a linen bag from her pack and headed into the tree line, intent on gathering edible plants for flavoring a stew. They already had a rabbit waiting to be skinned, which she was happy to leave to him. Cullen claimed there was a source of water close by according to their map, so she went in search of it, humming softly to herself. She wound through the trees, following the down sloping earth until she found a fast rushing stream, too narrow to be called a river.

 

Filtered shafts of late afternoon sun broke through the trees, creating hazy pools of golden light under the thick, green canopy. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and enjoying the mingled scents of plant and soil. At least this area appeared to have never seen the taint of darkspawn corruption. Some parts of Ferelden had managed to remain pure.

 

Voices drifted closer, and Terra froze, eyes tracking along the trees in alarm. Before she could run and hide, two Templars came into sight, their eyes immediately drawn to her.

 

She threw a Fist of the Maker, lifting and slamming them into the earth before she turned and ran back up the bank. A smite hit her, sending her to her knees and a different Templar came into her line of sight, his lip curled menacingly.

 

“Another bloody mage. They’re all over the country, it seems. Like a plague of rats.”

 

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her to her feet. She struggled, kicking out against him, but it was ineffective with him so heavily armored. He backhanded her, sending her reeling to the ground and cutting into her cheek with the sharp metal of his gauntlet.

 

An angry growl preceded the shower of blood that fell across her when Cullen’s sword removed the cruel Templar’s head from his neck. She sat blinking in shock.

 

Cullen moved forward with blade and shield in hand, radiating rage and engaging the other two, who were already recovered and brandishing swords.

 

Terra fumbled for the hidden bottle of lyrium in her waist pocket that she had started carrying everywhere. She yanked off the top while the clash of swords echoed across the trees, and downed it in two gulps. The aftertaste of cool mint lingered on her tongue while she jumped to her feet and called up a firestorm, killing the Templars in a hale of molten flame.

 

Cullen walked briskly across to her, tilting her face to examine the bleeding cut. With a frown of concentration, she expended the small amount of magic needed, and sealed the wound. His face lost some of its tightness until they heard the crash and clang that signaled the approach of more heavily armored men.

 

He took her hand, pulling her back up the hill and they ran until they came to their campsite. He spun around, wondering what to take and what to leave, finally deciding to leave it all. He latched onto her arm, intending to run again but she stopped him.

 

“We can’t outrun them, Cullen. Better to face them here where I’m prepared.” She lifted a bag of lyrium potions from her pack and went to stand far away from the trees, but close enough for her spells to reach.

 

He went and stood several paces in front of her, praying silently to the Maker to give him the strength to keep his beloved safe.

 

Templars marched through the trees, spreading out and trying to outflank them. Terra kept them clustered with her spells, raining death from the sky, while Cullen fought like a man possessed, smashing with shield and slashing with sword, slaughtering all foolish enough to challenge him. He always kept himself between Terra and their enemies, never allowing them to get within smiting distance.

 

When a fresh wave of Templars poured from the trees, Cullen felt the sickening surety that neither one of them would survive this battle, but he continued to swing his sword, and Terra downed potions, casting spell after spell.

 

A shadow fell over the battle, and Cullen glanced up to see a massive dragon circling overhead, his heart stuttering in shock.

 

“Cullen, come to me quickly!,” Terra screamed.

 

He fell back and she pulled him further away when the dragon released a wall of fire, incinerating every last Templar, and catching several trees alight. Terra whispered an ice spell, stopping the fire from consuming the trees.

 

“Just let me do the talking, for now.”

 

“Talk to who? They’re all dead.” Cullen looked at her in confusion but her eyes were trained on the dragon who landed near them, creating a giant gust of hot wind with a final folding of wings, and transforming before their eyes into an older woman with white hair.

 

He stared in amazement. Such powerful magic meant this woman was a very formidable foe. They hadn’t a chance against her.

 

She walked forward with a smirk and Terra stepped in front of him to meet her.

 

“Well, well, I see the Champion of Kirkwall did not hesitate to leap, after all.” Her eyes flicked to Cullen and her smirk grew. “And I see you inspired another to follow your example.”

 

Terra rubbed sweat from her brow, looking relieved. “Thank you, Flemeth. Once again, you come to my rescue.”

 

Flemeth moved to survey the burning corpses. “I enjoy roasting such fools on occasion, they don’t smell quite as foul as the darkspawn.”

 

“I don’t suppose you’re going to ask me to perform another task for you?” Terra asked jokingly.

 

Flemeth turned calculating eyes on her then flicked her ancient gaze to the side to stare at Cullen.

 

“Yes, yes, you may be right. It seems I do have a task for you, but not yet. Soon. Go to the forest as you intend. When the time is right you will know. Or will I know?” She shrugged, walking away, but turned to look back at Terra. “Enjoy your happiness while you can. Such things are often fleeting.”

 

With a burst of golden magic, she transformed back into a dragon, and flew off into a darkening sky.

 

“Who was that, or _what_ was that?” Cullen demanded.

 

“Let’s put some distance between us and this mess,” she gestured to the ruin of bodies, “and I’ll tell you everything.”

 

They retrieved their packs and set off in an easterly direction, walking for several miles until the dark prevented their going further. They ate dried meat, too tired to build a fire, and Terra curled up against Cullen after they had removed their clothing and crawled into their sleeping roll.

 

“Now will you tell me?” he asked quietly.

 

“Have you ever heard of the Chastened legends of the Witch of the Wilds, or Flemeth?”

 

“Certainly, haven’t all Fereldens at some point or another?”

 

She drew a breath and looked up at him in the dim starlight. “That was her, Cullen. _The_ Flemeth of legend. She saved my family, and Aveline as well, when we fled the darkspawn out of Lothering. Exactly the same way she saved us, as a dragon.”

 

His brow was furrowed in thought, as he absently rubbed her bare arm. “But you mentioned something about performing a task for her?”

 

She nodded. “I was tasked with delivering an amulet to a Dalish tribe on Sundermount, in exchange for her taking us safely to Gwaren. That was how we were able to sail to Kirkwall. We would have died without her intervention. The same as earlier.”

 

He stroked her hair, less worried than he had been. “I see. Well, delivering an amulet doesn’t sound difficult. I wonder what future task she was referring to? She certainly does have an unusual way of speaking.”

 

She shrugged against him. “I suppose legends are allowed some eccentricities.”

 

He dipped his head to kiss her and smiled. “I suppose they are, Champion.”

 

“Whatever future we face, Cullen, I’m grateful the Maker has seen fit to allow me to do it at your side.”

 

“As am I, beloved,” He kissed her forehead gently. “As am I.”

 

She rubbed her cheek against his chest, determined to take Flemeth’s advice and enjoy what happiness was granted them. The future was an altogether too fluid thing.

 

_**~FIN~** _


End file.
